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Frontispiece — How Bessie Kept House." 

‘"DON'T Vor WANT TO Tin.L Ml-: ALL ABOLT IT?'” 


HOW BESSIE 
KEPT HOUSE 


BY 

Amanda M. Douglas 

Author of 

“Larry," “The Kathie Stories, " 
Etc. 



Illustrations by Z, R, LEOPOLD 


PHILADELPHIA 
HENRY ALTEMUS COMPANY 



THE LIbRAkv OF 
CONGRESS. 

Two Copies Receivee 


OCT 8 1903 



Copyright, 1903, by 
Henry Altemus 


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• 4 • 4 

• • • «« « 

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• • • # • 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER I 

Bessie’s Ambition 

CHAPTER II 

Bessie’s Troubles Begin . • . 

CHAPTER III 
Bessie’s Severe Lesson 

CHAPTER IV 

Bessie’s “Higher Housekeeping” . 


PAGE 

. 13 

25 

. 49 

69 

. 81 


LAURA’S LESSON 
JESSIE’S DOLLAR 


vii 


103 











ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAGE 

“ ‘Don’t you want to tell me all about it?’ ” 

Frontispiece, 

“ ‘Can’t you mend it?’” . . . . 41 

“Carrie denied ‘up and down’” . . .59 

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BESSIE’S AMBITION 









HOW BESSIE KEPT HOUSE 

CHAPTER I 

Bessie’s ambition 

I know I could, mother. 
Please do let me. And, above 
all, too, I should not feel 
afraid without Cousin Jane, for there 
will be Dick and father at night.” 

Bessie’s face was very eager and her 
eyes so imploring that the mother smiled. 

‘^Cousin Jane has been so poorly with 
rheumatism that I hate to ask her, but 
she could sit still and tell you what was 
best.” 


13 


How Bessie Kept House 


That was just what Bessie did not 
want. She hated to be ‘‘ordered 
round,” as she expressed it, and Cousin 
Jane was a firm believer in Satan finding 
mischief for idle hands. No hands that 
she could keep busy were ever allowed 
to be idle. So Bessie quickly interrupted 
her mother with— 

“There isn’t much to tell. I help you 
do the work every day, and know as well 
as Cousin Jane. And it will be only 
such a little while. I’d so much rather 
be alone.” 

“What does father say?” 

Mr. Collins glanced up from his paper 
and looked at his wife and his little 
daughter of twelve. 

“AVhy, I don’t see but that Bessie can 
do well enough, if she does not go off to 
play and forget my dinner.” 


14 


How Bessie Kept House 


I will not. I will be careful not 
to forget a single thing. 

There are the children—’’ 

‘^I’U take Jamie in the field with me.” 

‘'And I, surely, can take care of 
Freddy.” 

“If you will be careful, Bessie. But 
you are so heedless.” 

Bessie flushed at this. She had a 
fancy that her mother did not at all ap- 
preciate her. She was as bright and 
smart as other girls, she knew, and it 
would be just lovely to have two or three 
days to herself, to do quite as she liked— 
by which you will know that Bessie was 
very fond of . having her own way. 

However, it was settled before Bessie 
went to bed. No one was to be asked to 
come. She would have the whole house 
to herself, and must try to do her best. 

15 


How Bessie Kept House 


She could hardly get asleep for think- 
ing of it. She would have the Lewis 
girls over one afternoon, and they would 
have such fun! If she only dared ask 
Carrie Lanham, who was so very funny, 
but her mother had refused her permis- 
sion to go to Carrie’s house, and had 
said that she did not approve of such a 
companion. But Bessie went to school 
with her, and if she was good enough 
to go to school, and to Sunday-school, 
why— she couldn’t be so very bad. And 
not to have to sew any, and to do the 
work when she liked— oh, it would be just 
splendid I 

So the next morning Mrs. Collins 
kissed her and said good-by, taking Lotty, 
the baby, with her, to make a short visit 
to the next town where Grandmother 
Collins was ill. 


16 


How Bessie Kept House 


The train went at nine. Mrs. Collins 
was up early and had the breakfast table 
all out of the way, the chambers put in 
order, and left only the ‘‘shed” for 
Bessie to clear up after she was gone. 

“Be sure and have your dinner ready 
by twelve,” said her mother, “and don’t 
go off anywhere, Bessie. On Friday at 
five I shall be back, so be a good little 
daughter. ’ ’ 

Jamie went over to the station to carry 
his mother’s bag. Freddy took his 
blocks to the shady corner of the porch, 
and Bessie went to the shed, as they 
called their rough summer kitchen, be- 
cause they piled their wood in it during 
the winter, and kept various articles of 
provision in it, though they only used it 
for washing then. There were the 
breakfast knives to scour, the place to 

9— How Bessie Kept House. 


How Bessie Kept House 


sweep up, beans to shell for dinner, and 
three hours to do it in. 

She stood in the doorway for several 
moments, looking out over the distant 
fields. 

don’t believe I will scour the knives 
this morning,” she said, presently. 
‘‘We will only need three more at dinner, 
and I can do it all then under the one 
fuss. And I’ll just brush up the kitchen. 
I shall have to give it a good sweeping 
after dinner. Eleven will be early 
enough to begin at the beans. If I kept 
house I should not work every moment 
of the time, I know. When I am mar- 
ried— ” 

Bessie fell into a brown study there, 
and out of the chaos of thought came 
a bright idea. There was a book 
up in Dick’s room that she wanted to 
18 


How Bessie Kept House 


read; she had stolen a few pages of it 
already. She did not even pause to 
brush up the kitchen, but ran upstairs. 

The room was in perfect order. On 
his table lay a Bible, a Familiar Science, 
and a Tourist’s Guide. Dick had a mean 
way of hiding his nice story books, and 
mamma approved of it. When she was a 
young lady she would read everything 
that she wanted to. Patchwork and 
crocheting were foolish things and a 
great waste of time nowadays— Mrs. 
Alwin said so the other day. And mend- 
ing and all that, Bessie had a little twinge 
of conscience there. Her stocking darn- 
ing for the week was not done, because 
she went out to tea yesterday. ‘^But, 
then, there is plenty of time,” she said 
to herself. 

So Bessie began to hunt around ; three 
19 


How Bessie Kept House 


bureau drawers were searched with no 
result, hut the fourth was locked. She 
found her mother ^s hunch of keys, hut 
none of them would fit. Her own little 
trunk key— hut no. There was some- 
thing in the drawer, of course— the hook 
she wanted and maybe others. Then a 
bright thought came into her mind. 
Take out the drawer above it, to be sure ! 

It was quite heavy and her arms were 
not very strong, so it came down with a 
crash, tumbling out the clothes, and a 
bottle of something that, fortunately, did 
not break. Yes, there was the very book. 
She seized it eagerly, found her place, 
sat down by the window, and forgot all 
else. 

^‘When you are older and have more 
judgment you may read some of these 
works,’’ her mother had said, “but at 
20 


How Bessie Kept House 


present excessive reading is a bad habit, 
and I do not want yonr mind taken away 
from your studies. There are other 
reasons, too, that you will understand 
as you grow older. 


21 



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BESSIE’S TROUBLES BEGIN 






CHAPTEE II 


BESSIE TKOUBLES BEGIN 

I T was vacation now, so her mother’s 
restrictions could not hold good. 
She read on and on until Freddy 
came trudging upstairs crying— 

‘‘Bessie, Bessie, I’m so hungry, I want 
a biscuit. Oh, you’ve broken Dick’s 
bureau ! ’ ’ 

Bessie started in guilty affright and let 
her book fall. 

‘ ‘ Go right downstairs, Fred, right 
away!” stamping her foot. 

“But you’ve broken the bureau!” 
“No, I haven’t!” Then, recovering 
from her fright, she said with a laugh, 
“I was only fixing Dick’s clothes. Come 

25 


How Bessie Kept House 


down with sister and she will give you 
a nice piece of cake/’ 

Bessie knew by experience that to beg 
Freddy not to tell was the surest way to 
make him. And though she did not feel 
in a very pleasant humor, she wanted to 
lead him to forget the incident, or if he 
did mention it to have him do so in no 
suspicious manner. 

‘^Will you have a piece of this nice 
gingerbread, or a biscuit? Oh, Freddy, 
what have you been doing? Making a 
fire there on the floor? You bad, wicked 
boy ! Why, you might have set the house 
on fire ! I have a good mind not to give 
you anything.” 

^^It was only a little bonfire,” whim- 
pered Freddy. ‘‘It fell off of the stove 
hearth and burned, and I couldn’t pick 
it up.” 


26 


How Bessie Kept House 


There was a scorched spot on the floor 
that mother’s sharp eyes would be sure 
to detect. Oh, dear! 

She scolded Freddy soundly. He 
cried, and she gave him a piece of cake 
to pacify him, swept up the fragments, 
and lifted the stove lid. The fire was 
out. Just then the clock struck eleven. 

First of all, she must go upstairs and 
put Dick’s bureau in order. If she only 
dared take the book out. Would he look 
at dinner-time? 

She stood and considered, read another 
page, and then hurriedly thrust the book 
back into its place, took up the drawer 
and began to push it in, but alas, it 
seemed a world too big. If one corner 
went in the other wouldn’t. If the bot- 
tom went in the top caught. She pinched 
her fingers, scraped her knuckles, cried a 

27 


How Bessie Kept House 


little, and at last, by accident, hit the 
fortunate medium. The clothes were 
tumbled in. Which corner held the 
bottle? For the life of her she could 
not tell ; so she put it in at a venture and 
ran downstairs. Half-past eleven, and 
no fire, no beans shelled, no potatoes 
ready! She let down the coal and put 
in some dry wood, set the tea-kettle over, 
washed her potatoes, burned two fingers 
in her haste, then went at arranging the 
table. 

“I donT believe father knew about 
the beans, putting them out of sight. 

There is cold meat and pie, and it will 
do well enough. Oh, dear, my poor 
fingers!” 

Father and Jamie came in at a quarter 
past twelve; Dick, who was in a store, 
five minutes later. She had managed to 

28 


How Bessie Kept House 


wash Freddy, and he had begged her not 
to tell about the fire, because he meant 
to be so very good all day long. But 
she was flurried, and her hand pained, 
and altogether she felt like crying. 

‘‘Well, little housekeeper,^’ exclaimed 
Dick, cheerily, “your table looks as nice 
as a new pin. There is one white mark 
for you. I am to keep account, you 
know. ’ ’ 

Bessie flushed uneasily. She wasn’t 
bad or deceitful by nature, or rather, I 
should say, not persistently, and now her 
conscience smote her, because she knew 
she did not deserve a white mark. 

“I want to stay home this afternoon,” 
declared Jamie; “I am going to make 
my pigeon coop.” 

“You had better come with me, and 
I’ll do it this evening. You might bring 

29 


How Bessie Kept House 


a basket and gather some nice wild 
grapes, ’ ^ said his father. 

Can’t I go, too?” asked Freddy, 
tired of being all alone.” 

‘‘No, you stay with sister this after- 
noon. To-morrow I will take you and 
Jamie riding as far as the stone bridge 
if you are good boys. ’ ’ 

That settled the matter happily. 

“Oh, Bessie,” her father said, pres- 
ently, “I picked some limas this morning 
for dinner. I suppose your mother for- 
got to speak of it. You might cook them 
for tea. They are coming on so fast. ’ ’ 
“Well, I will hunt them up,” she said, 
with a little flush. 

She was very glad to get them all out 
of the way. Freddy lay on the lounge 
with his picture-book in his hand, and 
she knew he would soon drop asleep. 

30 


How Bessie Kept House 


She ran upstairs to take another glance 
at Dick’s drawer. It did look tumbled, 
so she straightened out the articles, 
placed them in little piles, and left it 
neat enough, hoping that Dick would not 
notice any little change. Then she took 
her dishes out to the shed sink, cleared 
up the dining-room, brushed out the 
flies, and went to dish-washing. 

Oh, here were her breakfast knives all 
rusted! Some one had dropped water 
over them, and now the scouring would 
be twice as hard. The hot water made 
her scraped fingers smart, and Bessie 
really could not help crying. After the 
work was done she shelled her beans, 
tried to scrub out the burnt spot on the 
floor, and found it past three o’clock. 
Freddy woke up then and went out on 
the porch. She tied up her four fingers 

31 


How Bessie Kept House 


with some cooling ointment, brushed her 
hair, and changed her dress, when Addie 
Strong came in. 

want you to come over to our house 
to tea to-morrow,’’ she said. ‘‘My two 
cousins from Newton are to spend the 
day. Gracie plays so beautifully, you 
know, and you are so fond of music. I 
shall not ask anyone else.” 

“And I can’t come. It is too bad. 
Oh, dear!” and she had half a mind to 
send for Cousin Jane, cross old thing 
that she was. And maybe she wouldn’t 
let her go. Cousin Jane thought so 
much liberty was the ruin of children 
nowadays. No, she could not go —that 
was all about it. 

Addie was very sorry, and Bessie could 
have cried, but there was no help for it. 
She walked a short distance down the 


32 


How Bessie Kept House 


street with her, and paused at the gate 
to speak to Sophie Lewis. Could they 
not come over a little while to-morrow 
afternoon? 

Of course they would. And if Mrs. 
Collins was away, they would have such 
fun. 

‘^What is it? Can’t I come, too? 
Don’t shut me out of fun,” said Carrie 
Lanham’s gay voice. 

‘‘If you like,” said Bessie, thinking 
that she really could not help asking 
her, and rather glad that it had so 
happened. 

“We’ll have a regular frolic in the 
barn. Your barn is such a nice, clean 
place.” 

When she reached home she found that 
Freddy had been digging dirt out of the 
path and carrying it up on the porch, 

3 — How Bessie Kept House. 


How Bessie Kept House 


where with a cup of water he was making 
pies. 

‘^Oh, Freddy, you bad boy! Mother 
has forbidden you to bring sand up on 
this porch. And look at your clean 
apron! Oh, you disobedient, aggravat- 
ing— there, take that, and clear out with 
your blocks!’^ 

She gave him a hard slap in her vexa- 
tion. 

^‘111 tell mother — you see!^’ and 
Freddy cried more with anger than pain. 
‘‘I won’t pick up a single block, you 
ugly old thing ! ’ ’ 

‘‘You deserve a good whipping, that’s 
what you do!” and for a moment Bessie 
would have been delighted to administer 
it. But Mrs. Collins had forbidden the 
elder children to strike the younger ones, 
no matter what the provocation might be. 

34 


How Bessie Kept House 


So Bessie swept the porch and then 
wiped it over with the mop. It was time 
to make np the fire again. She was cross 
to Freddy, ont of temper, and as a nat- 
ural result everything went wrong. 
Supper was a little late, but so was her 
father, and Dick never reached home 
until seven. 

She went to bed shortly after her work 
was done, for she was tired and out of 
spirits. Housekeeping had not been the 
brilliant success she imagined it. But 
Freddy was so much trouble. Never 
mind, to-morrow afternoon he would be 
gone, and she and the girls could have a 
good time. 

Her father had the kettle boiling in 
the morning before he called her. The 
smart and ache was out of her fin- 
gers, and she felt rested. Everything 

35 


How Bessie Kept House 


went smoothly at breakfast, only Dick 
said— 

^^You need not have taken so much 
pains setting my drawer aside, Bessie. 
I had to langh this morning when I conld 
not find a single thing where I had put it. 
Bnt I suppose housekeeping was a great 
treat to you, ’ ’ and he laughed. 

Bessie flushed. He would never know 
the rest, hut if she could only have the 
hook to read. 

‘Hf that’s a specimen, you’ll he splen- 
did, Bessie, neat enough for an old 
maid.” 

Bessie turned away to listen to her 
father. Could she not hoil some beets? 
and he would send in a steak for dinner, 
and— was there anything else ? 

J amie stayed at home all the morning 
and helped to amuse Freddy. Bessie at- 
36 


How Bessie Kept House 


tended to her sleeping rooms, and then 
went to the kitchen. After washing the 
dishes she concluded to try making some 
cookies. They would be so good to eat 
this afternoon when the girls came. 

She had often helped her mother on 
baking days, but it was somewhat differ- 
ent to plan everything for herself. Bes- 
sie was not quite as wise as she fancied, 
though she often imagined that she could 
improve upon her mother ^s ways. She 
poured in her milk without any measure- 
ment, and then had to use more flour, 
making twice the quantity of dough that 
she meant to. She could not remember 
whether she had put in salt or not, and, 
without thinking to taste, ran for some 
more. They were rolled out, cut, and 
placed in the pans. 

make a cake of the rest,’’ she said 


87 


How Bessie Kept House 


to herself. can’t bother cutting out 
so much. ’ ’ 

She put them in the oven and began to 
tidy up her kitchen. What a sight of 
work there was to do, after all ! Beans 
to shell and Dick had asked for mashed 
potatoes. Oh, her cookies must be 
done! 

They were hard and dried, but not the 
beautiful brown that she was accustomed 
to see. What could be the matter? 
There was a good fire— oh, she had never 
turned the damper 1 How could she have 
forgotten it? Well, she would try the 
others. As for these— they might as well 
he cannon halls. She would not say any- 
thing about them, hut soak them and give 
them to the chickens. A little flour was 
of no account. She turned the damper, 
and the rest baked very nicely. Then 
38 


How Bessie Kept House 


she put in her cake, and was so busy with 
potatoes, beans, and the dinner table that 
she never thought to look until her dishes 
were washed. The cake was a cinder, 
of course, and the pan would have to be 
scoured before it met her mother ^s eyes. 
But as the girls were coming, she would 
not do it now. 

Mr. Collins had taken the two boys with 
him, so Bessie thought she would dress 
up for her company. There was a pretty 
lawn dress that her mother was rather 
choice of, but, then, if it did get crumpled, 
she could iron it out again. To he sure, 
her calico was clean, hut this was the 
prettiest, and ruffled. She would be very 
careful. 

Carrie came first. She was a bright, 
droll girl, who could talk broken Irish 
and Dutch, and mimicked every one to 

89 


How Bessie Kept House 


the life. She came up to Bessie’s room 
and inspected everything. When Sophie 
and Mary came, Bessie ran down, leaving 
her there. 

‘‘Let us go out in the barn and have 
a good romp,” said Mary. “It is such 
fun climbing over the hay. And we can 
do nothing much in-doors. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Agreed. I like it much the best, ’ ’ de- 
clared Bessie. “Come, Carrie!” she 
called. 

The visitor ran down presently, and 
said in a breathless way that she had been 
looking out of every window. There 
was a great fragrance of cologne about 
her, and Bessie mistrusted at once that 
she had been helping herself. 

They did have a gay time, sure enough. 
Carrie said and did everything funny, 
but somehow Bessie did not feel quite at 
40 



How Bessie Kept House. 


“CAN’T YOU MEND IT?” 


41 



How Bessie Kept House 


ease. The amusement did not seem to 
go down to the bottom of her heart and 
satisfy. And as she was scrambling 
about, her dress caught on something. 
Oh, the fearful rent ! Just above the ruf- 
fle, where it never could be mended, for 
it was drawn all out of shape. She might 
have known— why did she wear it out 
here to play in the hay? 

^‘It’s dreadful, isnT it? Will your 
mother scold? Can’t you mend it? Oh, 
what a dreadful tear ! ’ ’ 

Their fun was spoiled then. They 
came down very soberly and returned to 
the house, looked over some books, and 
then declared they must go home. Bes- 
sie forgot about the cookies that she 
was going to treat them with. She had 
a good cry as they went out of the gate, 
then she took her dress off and looked at 


43 


How Bessie Kept House 


it. No, it never could be mended. The 
whole breadth, too. If it only had torn 
anywhere else. 

Presently a bright thought came into 
Bessie’s head. Her mother had taught 
her to sew very nicely ; indeed, not being 
able to keep a servant, Bessie was made 
her chief assistant. She hunted up her 
mother’s piece bag, and, oh, joy! there 
was a large piece, enough for a new 
breadth. If she could get it in before her 
mother’s return. 

She began to rip it out, but, being 
sewed with a machine, it was slow work. 
Her father came home, there was sup- 
per to get, the boys to wash and put to 
bed, and then she took a lamp to her 
room, but ere long her father called to 
know if she had gone to bed, and why her 
light was burning. 


44 


How Bessie Kept House 


She wiped away a few tears and went 
to bed. 

^^Who broke my cologne bottle T’ 
asked Dick, the next morning. Jamie, 
was it yonr work f ^ ^ 

‘‘No, it wasn’t. I haven’t been in yonr 
room.” 


45 







BESSIE’S SEVERE LESSON 






CHAPTER III 


Bessie's severe lesson 

“ T T was not yon, Bessie? It looks as 
1 if some one had hit it to loosen the 
stopper and broken the neck off. 
The cologne is nearly all spilled, bnt the 
bottle is standing upright, so it could not 
have been the cat. ' ' 

^‘What a strange thing! Jamie, don't 
tell any story about it," said his father, 
sternly. 

didn't, father. I haven't touched 
it. Please do believe me. ' ' 

can guess how it happened," Bessie 
said, in great confusion. ‘‘Carrie Lan- 
ham called yesterday, and I took her to 
my room while I was dressing. Then the 
49 


How Bessie Kept House 


Lewis girls ran over, and I came down, 
expecting she would follow. When she 
did come down, she was very sweet with 
cologne, but I thought she had been using 
mine. ’ ’ 

‘‘I wish you would keep your girls out 
of my room,’’ said Dick, crossly. 

did not know she went there. It 
was very ill-bred. But, Dick, I will 
give you my bottle,” Bessie said, in 
so deprecating a tone that Dick was con- 
quered. 

Isn’t that the girl mother doesn’t like, 
Bessie ! Don ’t ever ask her here. ’ ’ 

^^No, I will not,” Bessie answered. 
^‘She cannot be real good or she would 
not have done such a thing.” 

Every spare moment of the morning 
poor Bessie worked upon her dress, but 
what with the boys and the dinner there 
50 


How Bessie Kept House 


were so many interruptions. As soon as 
she could get the dishes out of the way 
she took her dress over to Mrs. Lewis to 
ask her to sew up the breadths and stitch 
the ruffles on. 

am so glad you could do it/^ said 
Bessie. 

“You are a very ingenious little girl/’ 
remarked Mrs. Lewis. “How fortunate 
that you had some lawn like it. But you 
ought to have known better than to play 
in such a delicate dress. ’ ’ 

Bessie expressed her thanks with 
a great sense of relief. When she 
reached home, she ironed it out and 
hung it in the wardrobe, then finished 
putting her house in order, and had just 
time to dress herself and go to meet her 
mother. 

How glad Bessie was to see her. 

4c — How Bessie Kept House. 51 


How Bessie Kept House 


Housekeeping had not been so very de- 
lightful, after all. She was worried and 
anxious, and seemed to have a load at 
her heart, and the tears came into her 
eyes as her mother kissed her. 

‘‘Grandma is better, dear, and I have 
had a nice visit. She wants you to come 
and stay a week, and I promised you 
should. Are they all well, and did you 
keep house nicely? I have thought of 
you half the time.’’ 

“Pretty well,” Bessie answered, so- 
berly. 

“And there is father, too, come to meet 
us. Eun on, Lotty, dear, and catch 
him. ’ ’ 

Mrs. Collins was escorted to the house 
in a triumphant procession, and Mr. Col- 
lins declared that Bessie had been the 
nicest little housekeeper in the world, and 
52 


How Bessie Kept House 


that mother might go again; but Bessie 
felt as if she never wanted to be left alone 
with household cares. 

When Dick came home to supper, he 
put a square white parcel on her plate. 
He was a little sorry for his crossness 
that morning. 

‘ ‘ Oh, ’ ’ she cried, ‘ ^ a book ! And Little 
W omen ! Dear Dick— ’ ’ 

‘‘She deserved it, mother. She has 
kept house like an old woman, and noth- 
ing has been behindhand. ^ ’ 

Bessie ran out of the room to cry a 
little. She felt so sorry for the things 
they could not know— the dreadful things 
she never should have the courage to 
confess. But she never would touch 
Dick’s books again without permission, 
and as for Carrie Lanham— 

‘‘What is in this jar?” asked her 


53 


How Bessie Kept House 


mother, as they were putting away the 
tea things. ‘ ^ Oh, cookies ! Why— ’ ’ 

‘‘I made them yesterday, mamma, but 
they were not— very good— ’ ^ 

‘‘Pretty salt,^^ said her mother, with 
a grimace, “but they will do for the chil- 
dren. ^ ^ 

That evening Bessie took out the stock- 
ings. 

“So you did not even find time to 
darn the stockings, Bessie,’’ her mother 
began, merrily. “Yet sometimes you 
think there cannot be much to do, and 
during these three days there was no 
washing, ironing, or baking, and no 
baby to look after; but I dare say 
you found enough to keep you pretty 
busy. ’ ’ 

“I am afraid I did not improve it in 
the beginning, ’ ’ Bessie returned, gravely. 

64 


How Bessie Kept House 


‘‘But I shall never think again that it is 
so very easy to do.’^ 

“Yon succeeded very well/’ said 
her mother. “And as a reward you 
shall have a nice, pleasant week at 
Grandma’s. Aunt Lucy will be glad to 
have you.” 

There was a great lump in Bessie’s 
throat, but she had not the courage to 
speak, and afternoon came so soon. Her 
mother laid out her pretty lawn dress, 
and her father took her to the station and 
gave her into the conductor’s charge. 
But Bessie’s heart was not as light as it 
should have been for a little girl who was 
going to make a pleasant visit. 

Bessie had a delightful visit with her 
Aunt Lucy. Grandmother was just be- 
ginning to sit up a little, and she was a 
very pleasant old lady to wait upon. She 


How Bessie Kept House 


read aloud from an entertaining book, 
sewed a little, and bad one tea-party with 
some neighboring girls. 

^^How much you have improved!’’ her 
Aunt Lucy would say. ^‘How thought- 
ful you are 1 What a help your mother 
must find you!” 

Bessie would fiush at this praise and 
feel that she did not deserve it. If she 
only could make Aunt Lucy stop ! 

I said in the beginning that Bessie was 
not a persistently deceitful girl. She 
sometimes did naughty things and let 
them ‘‘blow over,” as people say; but 
they always troubled her, and made her 
much more conscientious while they were 
in her mind. And the pretty lawn dress 
that she put on every afternoon kept it 
all fresh. She was very glad she had 
succeeded in repairing it, and there was 

56 


How Bessie Kept House 


no real harm done anywhere, only she 
had not been trusty nor truthful, nor kind 
to Freddy. It wasn’t at all likely any of 
it would come to light, hut she wished it 
never had happened. 

The next Saturday Dick came over, 
and on Monday morning he took her 
home. School was to begin, so she could 
only kiss her mother and the children and 
run away ; but her mother had looked up 
her books and her lunch-box. 

That afternoon she said to Bessie— 
^^Did you see anything of a handsome 
piece of thread lace, Bessie, that I have 
been wearing in my silk dress'? I did it 
up the very day I went to Grandmother ’s, 
and laid it in the top of my drawer. I 
was in a hurry, and so did not stop to put 
it in my lace-box. ’ ’ 

“No,” said Bessie, slowly. 

57 


How Bessie Kept House 


^^You did not go to the drawer for any- 
thing 

^ ‘ I am sure I did not. ’ ’ 

‘‘Well, it is strange. I wonld not care 
so much, but it was expensive, and that 
for my sleeves matched. Still, I may 
have mislaid it.^’ 

Bessie felt warm and confused. She 
remembered now that Carrie Lanham 
had been accused at school of being 
“light-fingered.’’ She had lingered in 
the rooms after Bessie came down, and 
said she had been looking out of every 
window. Of course she had broken 
Dick’s beautiful cologne bottle, but she 
surely could not have had the face to 
steal— that was just it. Oh, if she only 
had not asked her to come ! Her mother 
had often said, “I would so much rather 
have you ask girls in when I am home 

58 


How Bessie Kept House 


than when I am ont, Bessie’^; hnt the 
little girl had been so intent upon suiting 
herself those few days. 

She asked Carrie Lanham at recess 
next morning, in* a rather confused and 
delicate maner to he sure, but Carrie was 
very indignant, and denied ‘‘up and 
down, ’ ^ as the children say. 

“But you did break Dick’s cologne bot- 
tle,” Bessie exclaimed, decisively. “No 
one else was in the room ; and you came 
down drenched with cologne. ’ ’ 

“It’s no such thing! You are the 
meanest girl I ever heard of, Bessie Col- 
lins! I would not he hired to step in 
your house again, and I won’t speak to* 
you this whole term ; you see if I do. ” 
Bessie went to her seat and dropped a 
few quiet tears over her hook. Her 
mother knew best, of course. She 

61 


How Bessie Kept House 


thought her so strict, so almost queer at 
times, and yet it was wisest, no doubt. 
Her judgment had not brought about 
very good results, she had to confess. If 
she only could have found her mother ^s 
beautiful lace ; but it never came to light. 

‘ ^ Have you read the book I gave you ? ’ ^ 
Dick asked one evening when they were 
in the kitchen making candy. ‘‘But of 
course you have, and it^s just splendid, 
isn’t itr’ 

Bessie’s eyes dropped and her brow 
flushed, for her cheeks were red as roses 
before. 

“I— I— no, I haven’t,” she answered, 
with much confusion. 

“■Why?” and Dick’s bright face was 
full of disappointment. “Didn’t you 
like to have it, or had you read it 
before?” 


62 


How Bessie Kept House 


‘^Neither — and I was glad — only I 
did not deserve it, and I am wait- 
ing—’' 

There Bessie broke down into a good 
cry. 

‘ ‘ Yon foolish little girl ! It is all abont 
that broken bottle. I was cross at first 
with you, but I felt sorry, and you were 
so good—” 

‘‘No, I wasn’t,” Bessie interrupted. 
“I wish you would let me tell you all, 
Dick; and maybe you had better take 
the book until some time when I am bet- 
ter.” 

Dick looked up in astonishment. Was 
Bessie the author of the mischief, and 
had she told a falsehood? 

“Well?” Dick answered. 

So Bessie related her first morning’s 
temptation, and how she had taken out 

63 


How Bessie Kept House 


the bureau drawers to get the hidden 
story. 

‘‘Mother told me to lock up any books 
I might have lying around. I would not 
have thought it of you, Bess, but, oh! 
don’t cry, it wasn’t so very bad, and you 
did not tell any story. ’ ’ 

“Yes, I told one to Freddy to account 
for having the drawer out, and acted one 
when you found your clothes so differ- 
ent, for somehow, when you begin—” 
Ah, Bessie, it is well to learn about the 
“tangled web” early in life, if so be that 
it brings wisdom. 

‘ ‘ Oh, Bess, how lucky the bottle did not 
break— the one in the drawer, I mean. 
It had nitric acid in it. I was taldng out 
a wart with it, and it would have eaten 
everything to pieces wherever it dropped. 
It wasn’t a nice thing to do, to be sure, 
G4 


How Bessie Kept House 


but I know you are sorry, and I don’t be- 
lieve you ever would do it again. You 
see, you are so fond of reading, and 
mother doesn ’t think it right to waste so 
much time; that is why I lock up my 
books.” 

‘^But you need never again, Dick. And 
I was punishing myself, because I did 
want to read the book so much. ’ ’ 

‘‘You are a brave little girl after all. 
Now we will make up, splendid, good 
friends, and shake hands. You are 
never to touch anything in my room that 
you think mother or I would not like you 
to have, and I will not need to put things 
out of sight. There, I’ll trust you until 
you tell me that you have broken your 
word, which I hope will never be. And 
now I want you to begin Little Women 
just as soon as you have leisure. ’ ’ 


65 


How Bessie Kept House 


With that they kissed each other and 
went on with the candy making, Bessie 
feeling quite light of heart. The candy 
was a success, too, and Bessie ran out of 
doors a few minutes to cool her burning 
eyes before she went into the next room, 
where her mother sat sewing while her 
father read his paper. They ate all the 
candy they wanted, and left some for the 
children who were in bed. 


66 


BESSIE’S 

HIGHER HOUSEKEEPING 






CHAPTER IV 


BESSIE ‘‘hIGHEE HOUSEKEEPING^^ 

T he next day Cousin Jane sent word 
that she was coming over for a 
visit, and when Bessie came home 
from school there she found her in her 
favorite window, her pincushion, her box 
of spools and odds and ends, and her 
scissors lying on the window sill; her 
patchwork hag hung on one corner of the 
chair and her knitting bag on the other 
Right in front of her lay a pile of calico, 
and on the lap-board she was sorting and 
doing up. 

i i There, Bessie, ^ ’ she began, as soon as 
she had answered the child’s greeting, 
^HVe been cutting up the bundles of 

5— How Bessie Kept House. 00 


How Bessie Kept House 


pieces, and here are half enough blocks 
for a new quilt. I am so sorry I did not 
come over in vacation, for you might 
have sewed it instead of cantering all 
over as girls do now-a-days. Why, when 
I was twelve years old I had four bed 
quilts of my own pieced, and had knit my 
own stockings for I can’t tell how long. 
I never went to school a day after that. ’ ’ 

Mrs. Collins glanced up to catch Bes- 
sie’s eye, and quietly entreat her not to 
answer her back sharply, but Bessie only 
said with a little laugh : 

‘‘Girls are not so smart now-a-days. 
Cousin Jane.” 

“That’s true enough, true enough. But 
you might improve your time. There’s 
so many to keep at you that I’m sure you 
have no excuse. And your mother was 
brought up in the old-fashioned way. 
70 


How Bessie Kept House 


Lotty, let those things alone! Now I 
hope yon are not going to waste this 
whole afternoon, Bessie. ’ ’ 

‘ ^ Oh, no, indeed I I have stacks of les- 
sons to learn. I go np in mother’s room, 
where it is qniet, for that,” and patting 
away her lunch box, she left the room, 
while Cousin Jane was descanting on the 
folly of studying so many things and 
wasting so much time. 

That evening Bessie brought out her 
stockings. Dick was making ready to 
crack some butternuts, and a plate of 
rosy apples stood on the table. 

There now, Elizabeth,” said Cousin 
Jane, ‘‘I would have darned those stock- 
ings this afternoon if you had given them 
tome.” 

‘^Bessie takes a certain share in the 
household work,” replied her mother, 

71 


How Bessie Kept House 


^‘and I like to have her do it, unless 
something especial prevents.’^ 

Cousin Jane looked them over to see if 
Bessie did them well, hut she could find 
no fault. Afterward Bessie brought out 
a tidy she was crocheting, hut as this did 
not, in the elder lady’s estimation, come 
under the head of strictly useful and nec- 
essary things, there was a small lecture, 
which Bessie took very sweetly. 

‘‘Bessie,” her mother said, the follow- 
ing morning, “Mrs. Strong and her sis- 
ter are coming to tea to-night, and I sent 
word for them to bring Addie. Come 
home as soon as you can. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ How good of you, mother ! ’ ’ and Bes- 
sie clasped her arms fondly about her 
mother’s neck. 

‘ ‘ Elizabeth, I am afraid you are spoil- 
ing that child. They see enough of girls 
72 


How Bessie Kept House 


at school and everywhere, and this hav- 
ing company makes them too much like 
big folks. It isn’t a good plan, and 
you’ll find it so in the end.” 

Bessie flushed and wanted very much to 
answer, but met her mother’s entreating 
eyes and smiled instead. 

She and Addie and Dick had a splen- 
did time that evening out in the kitchen 
popping corn and laughing, though 
Cousin Jane laid every little inattention 
that occurred for the next three days to 
the fact of having so much company. 

But presently the visit came to an end, 
though Bessie gratified Cousin Jane by 
sewing two evenings on the patchwork, 
and promising to persevere until it was 
finished. 

think my little daughter deserves 
much credit for being so pleasant and 
73 


How Bessie Kept House 


good-tempered/’ Mrs. Collins said, the 
next afternoon when they were alone. 
‘‘Cousin Jane is trying, but she means 
well, and her spectacles are not of the 
modern sort, so we must excuse her. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Mamma, how much you have praised 
me lately!” 

“Bessie, how good and thoughtful you 
have been lately, ’ ’ her mother said, in al- 
most the same tone, at which they both 
laughed. “Ever since you were at your 
grandmother ’s. ’ ’ 

“It wasn’t that,” Bessie returned, 
flushing. 

“Was it your experience at house- 
keeping, then?” 

“Yes, mamma, it was, though I was n’t 
half as good as you all thought. And it 
was dreadful?” 

“Dick nor your father never made any 

74 


How Bessie Kept House 


complaints, and I found the house in 
pretty good order, except that you al- 
most burnt up one of my baking tins. ’ ’ 
'‘I was going to scour it, but I forgot. 
That was not the worst, though. ’ ’ 

^^DonT you want to tell me all about 
it ! her mother asked, in a soft, coaxing 
tone. ‘^Though I cannot think it was 
very bad or I should have made some 
discoveries before this.’^ 

would like to, mamma, for I am 
quite sure that I should never do any of 
the things again. I used to think it 
would be so nice to have my way, and it 
did not seem necessary to work all the 
time, and— 

‘^You thought you were wiser than I. 
No uncommon thing for a little girl. T 
believe I was once troubled with the same 
complaint myself. But now for the 

75 


How Bessie Kept House 


story. After I was out of the house 
you—’’ 

Bessie took it up and went on bravely, 
though her cheeks were crimson, and the 
tears came to her eyes. She could n’t see 
how she had ever been so deceitful and 
untrustworthy. Perhaps her mother was 
a little astonished, too, but she saw how 
genuine Bessie’s sorrow was, and under- 
stood how patiently she had worked out 
her own amendment. So she drew her 
to her bosom and kissed her tenderly. 

There are a good many just such 
hard lessons for us to learn through 
life,” she said, kindly. Older people 
are wiser because they have had more 
experience, and have learned the result 
of wrong doing. So they try to warn 
their children, you see. I do not wish to 
deny you any indulgence, Bessie, that it 
76 


How Bessie Kept House 


would be better for you to have, unless 
it comes at a time to interfere with neces- 
sary work. I give up many pleasures 
for my children’s sake, and try to ask 
them to give up only a few for mine. 
And since we are not rich we must all 
help each other, which will make the 
work light. Besides, I want to guard 
you against selfishness and all its at- 
tendant evils. But I think you have 
learned your lesson pretty well. Like 
Dick, I shall not feel afraid to trust you 
again. ’ ’ 

‘^If you could only have your pretty 
lace back! Oh, mamma, how can any- 
body—” 

‘^One sin waits upon another. And 
now, little daughter, we will see how 
much we can help one another in the 
future, and you must believe that I am 

77 


How Bessie Kept House 


always thinking and planning for your 
best.” 

am sure I shall, forever and ever, 
mamma,” and she kissed her with 
warmth and sincerity. 

^ ^ I think you have learned a little about 
the higher housekeeping,” mamma con- 
tinued, softly,— “Keep thy heart.” 


78 


LAURA’S LESSON 









LAURA’S LESSON 


dear!’’ Laura Preston sighed, 
impatiently, ‘there’s the baby 
awake again ! I do wish I 
could have a little time like the other 
girls! They’re all going to Bell Cum- 
mings’s to play croquet, and I meant to 
ask you if I couldn’t go.” 

Laura’s voice choked over a sob. It 
was hard to stay in the house all this 
beautiful weather, to know what fun the 
girls were having, and she out of it all, 
taking care of this tiresome baby. She 
wished there were no such things as 
babies in the world. Saturday, she had 


Laura’s Lesson 


to give up Annie Graham’s little tea- 
party; Monday afternoon, she had a 
pretty book, that had to he returned the 
next day, and he wouldn’t let her read a 
line— here it was Wednesday, and it 
seemed to her that she had done nothing 
but take care of him for the last month. 

“If you could take him in the carriage 
—he’d be so much better for a change 
in the open air.” 

Mrs. Preston uttered this timidly. 
She was so ill and worn, and looked so 
tired, that, at any other time, her little 
daughter ’s heart would have been moved 
with pity. 

“But I couldn’t go there, and I 
shouldn’t want to; they’d all call me 
nurse-maid. I don’t see why Ann can’t 
find some time to take care of the baby. 
She used to, I ’m sure. ’ ’ 


.82 


Laura’s Lesson 


being sick has made so much 
more work, you know.’’ 

At this the baby gave a cry. Laura 
jerked him up from the cradle, and then 
he screamed. 

“You’re a -little crosspatch.” 

“Bring him to me,” said her mother. 

Laura felt a little ashamed then, and 
cuddled him up between her face and 
neck, and began to whisper softly to him. 
He was very sleepy, and soon shut his 
eyes. 

“I guess he will go to sleep again,” 
she said, in a gentler tone, and began 
walking up and down the room. Yet all 
the time she was thinking of the bright 
sunshine, and the smooth, velvety lawn 
where the girls were going to play cro- 
quet. 

“ Mother,” she said, presently. 


83 


Laura’s Lesson 


'^couldn^t we have some one come and 
take care of the baby while you are so 
poorly? There’s Jenny Briggs out of a 
place.” 

^‘Mrs. Sayre said Jenny was very 
careless ; that she wouldn’t trust her with 
a baby. I think I shall he better 
soon. It is real hard for you; I’m 
sorry. ’ ’ 

Something in her mother’s voice 
touched Laura, but she was not in a 
mood to be very tender. Of course, it 
was hard to have to stay in the house all 
the time, and give up everything. 

She laid the baby back in his crib, and 
gave another longing glance out of the 
window. 

‘‘I think you might go,” her mother 
said, presently; ‘4t’s only four now, and 
if you could be back by a little after five. 

84 


Laura’s Lesson 


Jamie ought to take a good long nap; 
he hasn^t slept hardly any to-day.” 

‘ ^ Oh ! I should like to so much. ’ ^ 

Laura’s conscience checked her. She 
felt that she ought to stay in the house, 
in case she might he needed; but there 
was Ann downstairs, and if the baby 
would sleep ! 

‘^Yes, you can go.” 

Mrs. Preston felt that Laura had been 
confined a great deal lately, and the 
frowning face did not promise very 
pleasant companionship. However, it 
cleared up wonderfully now. 

‘‘Oh! thank you, mamma! I’ll be 
back real early. ’ ’ 

Laura ran upstairs, and slipped on her 
white dress. Ann had begged her to 
save it nice for another Sunday, “the 
ruffles were so botherin’ to iron”; but it 

6 — How Bessie Kept House. 


Laura’s Lesson. 


was tlie very ruffles that she liked. Then 
she gave her hair a brush, tied on her 
blue sash, and went down. She ought 
to go in and kiss poor, pale mamma; 
but then she might wake the baby. So 
she stole softly along, lingering a mo- 
ment on the porch. Was that sound the 
little rascal Jamie waking up again? 
No, she guessed not, and down the walk 
she ran. 

They had played one game when she 
reached BelPs handsome house. She 
was very glad that she had dressed her- 
self so prettily, for here were Bell’s 
cousins, and Mrs. Cummings and some 
lady visitors were looking on. 

‘M’m so glad you’ve come !” exclaimed 
Bell; ‘‘we had to take that stupid Sarah 
Gaines, who hardly knows a mallet from 
a bean-pole. Now, we’ll have some fun.” 

86 


Laura’s Lesson 


‘‘It’s your day out, I suppose, Laura,” 
drawled Bessie Livingston. “I heard 
that you’d turned child’s nurse.” 

That vexed Laura, and a heat flashed 
to her face. 

“I take care of my little brother some- 
times, ’ ’ she said, haughtily ; yet she 
wished in her heart that she didn’t have it 
to do. 

“Come, Blue, run to your place!” said 
Bell. 

They all went at it in great earnest. 
Laura was a capital player, generally, 
but this afternoon her hand didn’t seem 
very steady. She lost her patience 
easily; she felt flurried, and nervous, 
and warm, and found she was on the 
losing side. And then there was an un- 
comfortable misgiving tugging at her 
heart. If the baby should wake, if Ann 
87 


Laura's Lesson 


was busy or out, and poor mamma did 
look unusually pale! She might have 
guessed that mamma had been worrying 
with the baby all day, when she said he 
had not slept any; but just then she did 
not want to think of any one besides 
herself. And now, she couldn’t help 
thinking, and the balls became confused 
in her mind. 

Until ten months before, Laura Pres- 
ton had been an only child, and, of 
course, indulged a good deal. She 
seemed so sweet and good-tempered al- 
ways, but it was because there had been 
nothing to try her. At first, she pro- 
nounced the baby splendid, and cared for 
nothing else— tended him, caressed him, 
did yards of tatting, crocheted him a 
blanket and a cap, and worked him a 
little skirt. Then her interest began to 
88 


Laura’s Lesson 


flag; he took so much time, and was 
really a great deal of trouble. 

For the last month, Mrs. Preston had 
been quite poorly, and the baby a greater 
charge. Laura grew tired of him, she 
secretly confessed to herself, though it 
did seem wicked. But it was hard to give 
up every moment. 

Mrs. Preston saw with pain that Laura 
was developing many selfish and un- 
amiable traits. Sometimes she won- 
dered whether it would be best to relieve 
her of all charge of the baby, or perse- 
vere until she had learned one of the hard 
lessons of life, to think of others for 
something besides pleasure. Yet, to do 
Laura justice, she had never been quite 
so cross as on this day. 

She didn’t enjoy the playing half as 
much as she expected. Bell thought she 
89 


Laura’s Lesson 


wasn’t trying at all, and did not care 
how she played, and presently the game 
came to an end. Laura said she must go 
home, but Bell begged her to come in 
and see her new dresses. 

‘‘How beautifully yours is made!” 
Mrs. Cummings said. “Bell, Miss Lang 
must see this waist; I’d like one of yours 
puffed in that fashion.” 

So Bell took her into the dressmaker, 
and, somehow, the time passed rapidly. 
The clock struck six. 

“Oh! I must go”; and Laura made a 
fresh start. 

Flying out of the gate, her skirt 
caught, and, in her haste, she couldn’t 
stop, so her beautiful dress, that she 
was so glad of having worn five minutes 
ago, now had a great, unsightly rent 
across one breadth. 


90 


Laura’s Lesson 


Laura uttered a passionate cry, more 
in anger than sorrow. The whole day 
had gone wrong, for that matter; but, 
first, a little girl had not been quite right 
in heart. 

The doctor ^s carriage was standing 
before the door. He generally came in 
the morning, and a sudden fear seized 
the child. There was one of the neigh- 
bors with little Jamie in her arms, 
she said; ^^mamma— 

^^Hush! dear— mamma is much worse; 
she has been bleeding at the lungs. This 
great baby is altogether too much for 
her; the doctor says she must have a 
nurse. ^ ’ 

Poor Laura! She seemed turning to 
stone. If she had not gone out!— and 
now, if mamma died, it would be all her 
fault. 


91 


Laura’s Lesson 


Jamie held out his dimpled hands with 
a smile. It seemed then as if her heart 
would break. Two hours ago she had 
thought him such a trial, and would have 
felt relieved if there had been no Jamie 
in the world— he loved her so much, too. 
She hid her face in his dress, and wept 
bitterly. 

‘‘Don’t cry, dear; she isn’t dangerous. 
I don’t exactly know, but if she keeps 
quiet, and isn ’t worried, she will get well 
again. Poor sister ! tell her not to cry, 
Jamie.” 

J amie patted the soft, curly head, and 
said,' “Ta-ta,” as if he would comfort 
her. But Laura’s heart was so full that 
she ran off to her room, and buried her 
face in the pillow of her own little bed, 
wanting to beg God not to punish her as 
she deserved, but afraid even to pray. 
92 


Laura’s Lesson 


Presently, some one called her; it was 
Ann’s voice, and, changing her dress, 
she went to the kitchen. 

^ Oh, Miss Lanra ! ’ ’ and Ann stopped, 
as she saw the pale, tear-stained face and 
swollen eyes. 

‘‘When was mamma taken so bad?” 
she asked. 

“About an hour ago. The baby’s 
been very troublesome all day, and he’s 
a heavy lift for a sick woman. I was 
going to ask you to do some errands. Miss 
Laura, but if you’ll set the table. I’ll 
go.” 

Laura was glad enough to do anything. 
Before she was through, the doctor went 
away, and Mrs. Brown came out with the 
baby. Then Laura heard a quick, 
familiar step. She waited with a beat- 
ing heart; but Ann returned, finished 
93 


Laura's Lesson 


preparing the supper, and yet papa had 
not left the room. Baby began to worry, 
and Laura took him. When the dear 
little arms tightened round her neck, 
the quick tears rushed to her eyes 
again. How could she have thought 
him a trouble, and been glad to get 
away! 

When Mr. Preston came in, he kissed 
Laura and Babie Jamie, asleep on her 
shoulder. She couldn’t eat or hardly 
speak, but listened to Mrs. Brown and 
papa. They didn’t seem to think Mrs. 
Preston so very ill, but Laura really was 
afraid she would die before morning— 
and what if she never kissed her again I 
Then she remembered how she had 
slipped away in the afternoon, and her 
heart smote her bitterly enough. 

A long while after, everything in the 

94 


Laura’s Lesson 


house was quiet— baby sleeping soundly 
in bis crib, Mrs. Brown and the nurse in 
Mrs. Preston’s room, and Ann gone to 
bed— only poor Laura sitting in the 
kitchen alone. 

^‘My dear child!” her father said, en- 
tering the room. 

^^Oh, papa!” She sprang up, and 
was clasped to his breast. 

‘^Hush! my darling. Mamma is very 
comfortable, and not in any danger. 
All she needs is good care. She has 
worried too much with the baby, but we 
will have a nurse for him. ’ ’ 

“Oh, papa! that is what I want 
to talk about. IVe been so wicked; 
I don’t know as anyone can ever for- 
give me, and if mamma had died, I 
should always have felt as if I had killed 
her. ’ ’ 


95 


Laura’s Lesson 


‘‘Why, my child!’’ Mr. Preston began, 
in astonishment. 

“Yes, I ought to have stayed and taken 
care of the baby. I knew mamma was 
weak and sick, though she didn’t say that 
she had worried with him all day ; but it 
seemed to me that I hadn’t been any- 
where for ever and ever so long, and I 
did want to play croquet with the girls. 
I didn’t enjoy hardly a moment of it, 
though, and now I am so sorry that I 
went. ’ ’ 

Laura’s voice broke down entirely 
then, and she was sobbing in her father’s 
arms. 

“My little girl,” he said, gravely, 
“this is a hard lesson, indeed. It is 
doubtful if mamma would have been 
quite so bad if she had not overtasked 
herself ; but the doctor said the bleeding 

96 


Laura’s Lesson 


was not from her lungs, and that it is 
really better she should give up, and 
have good care taken of her. We shall 
have a nurse for Master Jamie. I pro- 
posed this some time ago, hut mamma 
thought it was best for you to have some 
little charge of him, seeing that he was 
your only brother. But it does confine 
you very much, so long as she is not well. 
Only, my little daughter ought to learn 
to think for others, or she will he in 
danger of growing up a selfish, un- 
amiable woman. 

^‘Oh, papa! I don’t believe I ever 
shall forget again,” sobbed Laura. 
^‘And if mamma gets well—” 

think she will. Let us both pray 
earnestly.” 

Laura did not ask to see mamma that 
night. She determined to hear bravely 

97 


Laura’s Lesson 


the punislimeiit she had brought upon 
herself, and she prayed a long while that 
she might be kept purer in heart, and 
learn to be unselfish. 

She did not forget the next morning. 
Laura was a neat, handy little girl, and 
could do a great deal when she chose. 
She helped Ann now, and took care of 
her brother in such a pretty, winsome 
manner, that Ann quite forgot the scold- 
ing she meant to give her— for the maid 
felt herself one of the family, she had 
been with them so long. 

Laura was glad at last to be able to 
go in and see her mamma. They had a 
tender talk about the incidents of the day 
before, and Mrs. Preston felt satisfied 
that they would make a lasting impres- 
sion upon her. 

I do not mean that Laura was alto- 

98 


Laura's Lesson 


gether perfect after that, for every- 
one has to try daily and honrly as 
long as he or she lives; hut she tried 
to think of others, and to make them 
happy, and she found, as people always 
do, that she was the happier for it her- 
self. 

Mrs. Preston recovered, to Laura’s 
unbounded delight. They had a nurse 
for Jamie, hut the little rogue thought 
his sister much to be preferred, and Mrs. 
Preston was thankful to see so cheerful 
a spirit growing up within her. If ever 
she felt tempted to fret, or felt a frown 
rising to her sunny brow, she tried to 
check it immediately by remembering 
the sad night she had passed when 
mamma was so ill. 

Ann could not help scolding about the 
torn dress, and Laura took it very 

ILofC. 99 


Laura’s Lesson 


meekly. It was part of her lesson, she 
admitted— the one all children have to 
learn— that their own way may not be 
the best, even if they can be indulged 
in it. 


100 


JESSIE’S DOLLAR 


7 — How Bessie Kept House. 









JESSIE’S DOLLAR 


“'^HERE’S somethiiig to buy sugar- 
1 plums with/’ Uncle Mark said, 
with a good-by to his little niece 

J essie. 

She kissed him and gave him a good, 
hard hug, by way of showing her grati- 
tude. After he had gone, she opened her 
hand and smoothed out the rumpled note. 
It was a dollar. 

Jessie Marsh was used to having con- 
siderable spending - money. Uncles, 
aunts, and cousins kept her pretty well 
supplied. She was one of those bright, 
merry girls who are always smiling and 
103 


Jessie’s Dollar 


happy, and a great favorite with every- 
body— ready to do a favor, hold a skein 
of yarn for grandmother, look np her 
papa’s slippers, and run upstairs or 
downstairs for a misplaced or forgotten 
article. Perhaps this was why she re- 
ceived so many gifts of one kind and 
another; for even visitors at the house 
always went away with a pleasant re- 
membrance of cheerful, obliging Jessie. 

Mr. Marsh was in very comfortable 
circumstances, and extremely indulgent 
to his little daughter. She was the only 
girl, and there were four boys in the 
family. If Jessie expressed a wish for a 
book or a toy, he always brought it home 
to her. I am sorry to say that Jessie was 
rather careless and extravagant. To be 
sure she made glad many a child’s heart 
by gifts of her playthings when she was 
104 


Jessie’s Dollar 


done with them, but she tired of them 
very soon and wanted new. Pennies, 
quarters, and even half-dollars, often 
went for some trifle that presently lost 
interest for her. Mrs. Marsh tried to 
check this fault in her daughter, but her 
father generally came to the rescue. 

‘^Let her take her own pleasure with 
the money, ^ ^ he would say. ‘ ^ I dislike to 
see children mean and parsimonious.’’ 

But Mrs. Marsh took every occasion 
to direct Jessie, although her advice was 
not always followed. 

Jessie was still holding her dollar in 
her hand, as her mother re-entered the 
room. 

‘‘See what Uncle Mark gave me— to 
buy sugar-plums with, he said,” and 
a radiant smile illumined Jessie’s 
face. 


105 


Jessie’s Dollar 


And only yesterday you were wishing 
for a dollar, ’ ’ her mother replied. 

The smile faded a little at that. Jessie 
had been listening to a poor woman’s 
story the day before. Mrs. Marsh had 
given her some sewing, as she was very 
anxious to earn enough money to pay her 
rent. Counting up what she was likely 
to get from one and another, left her 
still a dollar or two short. Ordinarily, 
Mrs. Marsh would have overpaid her, but 
now she had a mind to put Jessie’s gener- 
osity to the test. The little girl had been 
quite thoughtful for some time after Mrs. 
Adams ’s departure, and at last had said : 

^ ^ Oh, mamma ! I wish I had a dollar ; 
I should give it to Mrs. Adams. How 
hard it must he to earn money enough 
to take care of herself and those three 
little children!” 


106 


Jessie’s Dollar 


‘‘Yes,’^ her mother answered, gravely. 
‘^We ought to he thankful that God has 
placed us above want/’ 

Jessie went to her bank. It never had 
a very large surplus on hand. Twenty 
cents— that was not near a dollar! So 
she gave a little sigh. 

This was what her mother’s words re- 
called. She looked rather sober over it 
for several moments. 

‘‘A dollar is a good deal for a little 
girl to give away,” she said, slowly, as 
the result of her thoughts. 

‘‘It did not seem so yesterday. It 
is often easier to be charitable with that 
which we do not possess. ’ ’ 

“One can’t give them when one hasn’t 
anything, ” Jessie said ; and the absurdity 
made her smile a little. 

“And it is unfortunate not to have 


107 


Jessie’s Dollar 


the heart and the money at the same 
time. ^ ’ 

Jessie did not reply. It was nearly 
schooltime; so she hunted up her hood, 
her squirrel tippet and muff, and her 
good, warm cloak. She had never suf- 
fered from any cold or neglect, and there 
was a sudden rush of gratitude in her 
heart, for it was a sweet, true, and tender 
heart. 

Good-by, mamma,’’ and she came to 
kiss her. Then she strapped her books 
together and hung them on her arm and 
ran down the path. 

Should she give Mrs. Adams her dol- 
lar? There were so many things that 
she wanted. She just halted at Warner’s 
store-window. There was a box of 
paints that were only a dollar— she had 
made two or three ineffectual attempts 
108 


Jessie’s Dollar 


to save up her money and get them. 
And there was a crying baby with the 
loveliest blue eyes. Her dolly was past 
the crying stage— she would just go in 
and price this one— it was such fun to 
have the squeaking little thing ! ‘ ‘ Seven- 
ty-five cents. It was a beauty. And 
there was a lovely toy in the shape 
of a pretty carved egg-cup, with an egg 
in it. When you touched a spring in the 
bottom, the upper half of the egg flew 
off, and the prettiest little fairy made 
you a bow. That was a dollar. And a 
drawing-slate, with such a charming 
variety of landscapes, castles, birds, 
flowers, and nearly everything. Oh ! 
what beautiful things one could buy with 
a dollar! 

‘‘Will you take this babyT’ and the 
shopwoman made it cry like a real live 


109 


Jessie’s Dollar 


baby, and all the while there was such 
a roguish look in its blue eyes. 

‘‘Not just now,’^ Jessie said, faintly, 
and turned away. 

“Oh! you like this cup better’’; and 
then the woman made the fairy spring 
up so suddenly that Jessie jumped, too. 
How she could startle the boys with it I 

“I won’t take any of them now,” 
Jessie said, with sudden determination, 
and then went out. She had to run to 
school to be there in time. 

At recess, Martha Lee displayed a 
beautiful rubber ring with a pearl in it. 
It looked so pretty on her white, slender 
fingers. 

“It cost just a dollar,” she said, “and 
I saved up all my pennies to buy it.” 
Then she let Jessie try it on. The boys 
had made Jessie several rings, but they 

no 


Jessie's Dollar 


had not the smooth finish of this. And 
then the pearl ! 

‘‘I mean to have one/^ exclaimed Bell 
Anders; “IVe about seventy cents saved 
up.’’ 

J essie looked at her finger and decided 
that she wanted one, also. To be sure, 
there was her pretty birthday ring, with 
rubies, but that wasn’t black. The pearl 
looked so lovely in the jetty setting. 

Poor Jessie! By the time she had 
gone home to dinner and come back 
again, Warner’s store seemed as full of 
treasures as the magic cave, and there 
were so many things that cost just a dol- 
lar. Her money was fast burning a hole 
in her pocket. It seems strange that it 
should have this faculty, but it does ap- 
pear to produce a curious kind of com- 
bustion. Did you ever feel your fingers 
111 


Jessie’s Dollar 


tingle and bnrn when yon touched three 
or four pennies in your pocket, and could 
you not almost taste the delightful taffy- 
candy that the little old woman, two 
doors from the school, sold? 

Mrs. Adams’ pale face and troubled 
eyes interfered with Jessie’s peace of 
mind. She certainly thought yesterday 
that if she had a dollar she would give 
it to her. Why did she not want to now? 

‘‘Clara Adams hasn’t been to school 
to-day,” Miss Trusdell said. “Who 
goes near her house?” 

Jessie swallowed a great lump that 
seemed to rush up from her heart. 

“I’ll call. Miss Trusdell.” 

“Thank you, Jessie. Clara ought not 
miss a day. I am afraid she is sick. ’ ’ 

So J essie went around by another path, 
almost afraid to pass Warner’s again. 

112 


Jessie’s Dollar 


It was a cold December day, cloudy now, 
and with the appearance of snow. The 
wind nipped Jessie’s rosy cheeks, but 
she did not mind. Here was the little 
cottage— rather cold and forlorn-looking, 
it must be confessed. Jamie answered 
her tap at the door. 

‘^Oh! come in. Miss Jessie!” Mrs. 
Adams exclaimed; and Jamie shut the 
door quickly, so the biting air would 
not rush in. 

called to see why Clara wasn’t at 
school to-day,” Jessie said. 

Clara blushed. Mrs. Adams looked 
rather troubled. 

‘‘You’re not sick?” 

“No, Miss Jessie, it wasn’t that. But 
Clara hasn’t any shoes. She would 
freeze her feet in thosfe old ones ; besides 
they’re out to the ground.” 

113 


Jessie’s Dollar 


Jessie cast a furtive glance at them— 
old and shabby, indeed. She thought of 
her own half-worn boots, but although 
Clara was a smaller girl, her feet were 
larger than Jessie’s. No, that would not 
do. 

‘‘I ordered her a pair at Mr. Gregg’s, 
and they’re done, only he will not let me 
have them until I pay down a little. 
And I’ve just money enough for my rent, 
which is due to-morrow. Mr. Dallas is a 
hard landlord.” 

‘‘Then you have all the money?” 
Jessie said, gladly. 

“Yes, I am thankful for that ; but Clara 
must wait until next week. I shall have 
to earn some more.” 

Jessie talked to Jamie and Charley 
quite a while, and listened to the praises 
of her own dear mamma, who was always 
114 


Jessie’s Dollar 


doing a kind turn for everybody. And 
a plan came into her mind ; but then she 
could not have a crying doll, nor a paint- 
box, nor any of those charming toys that 
she half coveted. She said good-by to 
them presently, and went straight to Mr. 
Gregg’s. 

A woman in a faded shawl was stand- 
ing by the untidy counter. She had been 
binding some shoes, and brought them 
home. 

can’t give it to you, because I 
haven’t a cent in the place,” Mr. Gregg 
was saying. ‘ ‘ People won ’t pay me, and 
I can’t pay others.” 

‘^But we actually haven’t anything in 
the house— not a mouthful of dinner 
even”; and here the poor woman’s 
tremulous voice broke down. 

Jessie felt like crying, too; but she 
115 


Jessie’s Dollar 


winked away the tears with a great 
effort. Then she asked Mr. Gregg about 
Clara ^s shoes. 

‘‘There they are,” he said, rather 
brusquely, and nodded his head toward 
a stout pair standing on a little shelf. 
“Good, strong ones, too, and dirt cheap, 
yet they can’t pay for them. I’m done 
trusting; it’s a poor plan, and keeps me 
like a beggar.” 

Then he hammered spitefully upon 
his lapstone, and looked savage. He was 
a surly old fellow. 

“Will you let her have them if I give 
you a dollar now, and promise to pay 
the rest if they can’t?” Jessie asked, 
bravely. 

“Yes, Miss.” 

Out came Jessie’s dollar. Spent for a 
pair of coarse shoes that had not a bit of 
116 


Jessie’s Dollar 


beauty or grace, like the fairy or the 
doll, or twenty other things. 

The poor woman approached again. 
“Oh, Mr. Gregg—’’ 

“Well, take it,” he said, ungraciously. 

The thin fingers clutched it nervously, 
and she almost stared at Jessie. 

“Will you send them down to Mrs. 
Adams, to-night? I’ll ask papa for 
the rest of the money. How much is 
it?” 

‘ ^ Only a dollar. Cheap enough, I must 
say; hut I work for about nothing.” 

When Jessie was in the fresh air, try- 
ing to breathe out the smell of wet 
leather and shoemaker’s wax, a hand 
was laid upon her shoulder. 

“Heaven bless you, child,” a faint 
voice said. “You’ve done a kind deed 
for a friend and been the means of 

— How Bessie Kept House. y 


Jessie's Dollar 


blessing a stranger. My poor old 
mother and I were absolutely at starva- 
tion point. God must have sent you 
hither. ^ ^ 

Jessie’s heart swelled too full for 
utterance. The temptations in W arner ’s 
window were nothing to her then. She 
ran down the street with a light, happy 
heart. 

‘ ‘ How late you are 1 ’ ’ Mrs. Marsh said, 
as Jessie entered. It was dusk in the 
cozy sitting-room. 

‘‘Mamma,” she said, presently, “I 
must tell you, I have spent my dollar. 
And I’ve had such an odd time! I’m 
satisfied, though.” 

Then J essie told her mother the 
whole story. Mrs. Marsh kissed her 
tenderly. 

But that was not the end of it. J essie ’s 
118 


Jessie’s Dollar 


dollar was likely to have quite a history 
of its own. 

Some time after, on one Saturday, old 
Matt, who came up to the Marshes’ to 
do chores and rough work, made his 
appearance in a good, warm, woolen 
jacket. 

‘^How nice and comfortable you are. 
Matt,” Mrs. Marsh said. was think- 
ing a few days ago how much you needed 
such a garment.” 

‘‘And it came to me most like a 
present— a queer sort of way that I 
wasn’t counting on. There’s a poor 
woman who does a little sewing and 
binds shoes for Gregg. She came over 
to our house for loaves of bread, and 
she’d run up quite a bill when she 
stopped. For a while I didn’t hear any- 
thing from her. ‘We’ll never ask the 
119 


Jessie’s Dollar 


poor creetur for it/ I said to mother; 
but last Wednesday she brought a dollar 
to pay up the back, and get some more 
bread. So says mother : ^ Now, Matt, you 
must have a jacket right away, for I never 
expected to get this money at all. I have 
fifty cents that I can put to it, and it’ll 
just do. So, now I shan’t be so likely to 
get the rheumatiz in my shoulders. The 
Lord sends everything round about 
right.” 

Jessie glanced up at her mother. Her 
dollar had benefited even Matt. 

‘‘Will you tell me where this poor 
woman lives?” Mrs. Marsh asked; 
and that afternoon she and Jessie set 
out to find her, and were in time to 
rescue two human beings from starva- 
tion. 

“What a wonderful dollar!” Uncle 


120 


Jessie’s Dollar 


Mark said, as Jessie, sitting on his knee, 
recounted its adventures. think I’ll 
have to put some more out in the same 
fashion. ’ ’ 

‘‘It’s sweeter than sugar-plums,” 
J essie returned, with a winsome laugh. 


[the end.] 


121 



























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